Stag and Lion
by FinnCullen
Summary: Jaime Lannister has lost his hand and his world is shattered. Retreating into painful unconsciousness he finds a strange distraction.


"Kingslayer"

Jaime stirred in his sleep. He was feverish and sweating, and his sleep was more like unconsciousness than rest. Still conscious of the pain from the newly cleaved stump of his right arm even while his body shut down through exhaustion, it was not a restful slumber. The wench's voice in his ear barely reached him though he was aware of the familiar braying tone of her voice.

"Kingslayer"

Leave me alone he thought as he drifted in painful darkness, let me sleep. Sleep yourself you mannish freak, sleep and dream of your precious Renly.

"Kingslayer"

He opened his eyes at the new voice, a man's voice, one he knew. It took him a few seconds to remember where he was and he looked round in confusion. Kings Landing, His chamber in the tower of the King's Guard. How had he fallen asleep? Why would he have had such an appalling dream, to dream of losing his hand? Horrific. Yet there he was, whole and untouched, and strong and...

...and young. And it was only now that Jaime realised that he was looking at himself from outside, as he was when he was barely seventeen years old. He was looking at himself from outside! From across the room. In panic he looked down at his mutilated right arm and groaned in despair. Was this the dream then? A defeated cripple's dream of vigorous youth?

He looked back at his younger self, and he felt his stomach turn over.

Why would he dream of this night in particular? This strange unique night. The younger Jaime removed his surcoat and his shirt and stood there for a moment in the lamp light looking down at the figure in his bed. The smiling, mocking, handsome youngest Baratheon.

"No," the older Jaime muttered.

"Don't pretend you didn't want this," said a voice to his side. Jaime whirled to face the speaker and reached for his sword... and agony tore through his body as he moved that ruined arm.

"Easy, easy," said the speaker to his side, and placed a reassuring and restraining hand on his left shoulder. Renly Baratheon, pale, and older than his youthful counterpart in Jaime's bed. "You're not looking so good, Kingslayer," said Renly quietly, "but then again, at the moment, nor am I."

"What is this?" Jaime growled.

Renly shrugged his shoulders. "A fever dream? A vision on the borders of the Stranger's cold realm? I'm dead and cold, Kingslayer, at least my body is. But here I am. And here you are."

"Am I dead then?"

Another shrug. "Do you see a Maester's chain around my neck? I don't know." He turned from Jaime and looked at the couple in the bed. "You were so unsure of this," he said, "But you refused to back down, refused to show fear. How like you."

The older Jaime's face was set like stone. "I was drunk,"

"Is that what you told yourself afterward? You'd barely drunk a mouthful of wine that night. You wanted it as much as I did and you know it. Curious young knight, so flattered, and with a certain desperation about you. I often wondered what was behind that."

Cersei, thought Jaime, and the hope I could drive out one desire with another. But it was a fool's hope.

The two men in the bed were kissing now, both naked, healthy young bodies sliding against each other, muscle on muscle, and mouths open kissing wherever they could reach. Jaime remembered how it felt, remembered how startled he was when Renly first reached down to grasp him between the legs and found him ready. He saw that moment now as a spectator and muttered darkly at the look of innocent surprise on his younger self's face. The older Renly laughed.

"I never had much of a taste for voyeurism," said the Kingslayer darkly. "I want to wake up now. Or see something else. If this is the Stranger's first hell then I've had my fill of it."

Older Renly chuckled.

"You're a Lannister, remember,"

"What of it?"

"A Lannister,"

Jaime cursed him in frustration and found he could not look away from the bed. The young Baratheon had turned on the bed, kneeling, and lowered his face to Jaime's thighs, kissing and biting. The young Lannister watched in fascination, his mouth open, and shuddered in mingled pleasure and dismay as Renly's mouth closed over his hard cock and moved down slowly and expertly to the very base.

"I could feel how much you wanted that," said the older Renly quietly, "and taste it too."

"I was young," Jaime snarled, "and..."

"And you wanted to try it. I understand. I hoped you might... prove a willing lover after that night, but it was not in your nature. I accept that. Even that night you only had it in your heart to play the man's role."

The Kingslayer nodded, and he saw it play out. Renly was face down on the bed now, his head toward the spectators as the young King's Guard knight took up position behind him between Renly's parted thighs.

"The look on your face," the older Renly chuckled, "I'm glad I couldn't see it then. Half horror, half sheer animal lust. I wonder what you were thinking of?"

Cersei, thought Jaime, even then I was thinking of Cersei. He winced as he saw his younger self thrust his hips forward, drawing a gasp of intense pleasure from the Baratheon youth.

"I was well prepared of course," said the older Renly watching the scene play out, his head on one side like someone evaluating a performance. "I guessed you might not be in a mood to wait. A little oil, a little time spent preparing..."

"Why are we watching this?"

"You're a Lannister. Watch."

Jaime found himself unable to turn his head as he watched the couple on the bed fucking. Jaime, the younger Jaime, was gripping Renly's shoulders hard, his knuckles white, his hips pounding back and forth with all the unsophisticated passion of the young.

"Yes..." groaned the man beneath that onslaught, "yes... and afterward... your turn to take it..."

Sweat was running down the young lion's face and body, and he nodded, his climax clearly almost upon him, "Yes," he said, "yes.. oh seven save us... ahhhhh"

The older Jaime looked away then, unable to bear the sight of himself in the throes of passion with another man. The man by his side laughed aloud at his discomfort.

"That was the only time, Kingslayer," he said, "The only time like that. With me anyway. I assume you educated your sister in the alternatives of-"

"Watch your mouth, Baratheon," snapped the Kingslayer. "Why am I seeing this?"

"You're a Lannister," Renly said again

"What of it?"

"A Lannister always pays his debts," Renly said, "and you never did. Did you?"

Jaime scowled. "What are you talking about? What debt?"

Renly indicated the now empty bed across the room. "You promised me my turn," he said, "and you never gave me it. A debt."

"Go to hell," said Jaime, his skin suddenly cold, his stomach fluttering.

"Isn't this hell?" said Renly with sudden sharpness in his tones, a king's voice not the mocking banter of earlier. "Pay your debt, Kingslayer. You and your sister fucked my brother Robert often enough, that's a debt too. You mocked him and betrayed him. But let that pass. He was his own man and can pursue his own cold vengeance if his spirit has the power. For me though, there is the debt I need you to pay. There."

He jabbed his finger toward the bed.

"No," said Jaime.

"No? You're fading fast, Kingslayer. You're fading fast from that wound and from the despair of knowing your life is shattered. Only one thing will get you through this, your Lannister pride, your Lannister stubbornness. Turn away from what makes a Lannister strong and you've no hope. And a Lannister..."

"Pays his debts," said Jaime quietly.

"Get on the bed," said Renly firmly.

As though in a dream (and this was a dream.. wasn't it?) Jaime found himself walking shakily toward the bed. The room was his room in the halls of the King's Guard. He remembered every detail, every texture. His eyes were fixed and staring as he kneeled on the floor at the side of the bed and leaned forward across it.

"This needn't be an ordeal," Renly was close by, behind him, his voice firm but quiet. His hands reached around Jaime's body and unfastened the belt holding up his breeches. Jaime did not move to aid or hinder, just kept his eyes on the wall across from him. "Relax," Renly said, and his hand moved expertly as he slid Jaime's breeches down to his knees, sliding back up to touch Jaime intimately.

"Just... claim your debt," Jaime whispered hoarsely, feeling Renly start to stroke and pull at his limp cock.

"You'll take part," Renly said, "I won't let you just bear this.. you'll take part." His hand was maddening, relentless, and despite himself Jaime began to feel heat and heaviness start to grow there under Renly's fingers. He closed his eyes then and thought of Cersei. Of her flawless skin, her golden hair, her smile, the way her lips parted when she grew near to her pleasure, the scent of her...

"There," said Renly in satisfaction, feeling Jaime harden slowly but inevitably. "There's my Kingslayer." His hand moved slowly now, teasing more life into Jaime's cock, stiffening it to its full length. Jaime felt his heartbeat racing, and he realised that for the last few seconds he had not been thinking of Cersei at all, but only of the hand on his body, and of the thought of what was about to happen. And then Renly's hand was gone from him.

"Preparation," whispered Renly, "is the key to success." A movement behind him, the sound of ceramic on stone, and then a cold oily pressure between the cheeks of Jaime's bottom. Fingers, oiled fingers, pressing and probing. "Relax, Lannister, it will be easier if you... relax... this is going to happen, you may as well enjoy it."

Jaime closed his eyes and bowed his head onto the sheet covering the bed as Renly's fingers slipped slowly inside him and began to work back and forth, round and round. It was uncomfortable, stretching, invasive. His cock stayed as hard as ever though and Jaime's one hand gripped the sheets, waiting in horrified anticipation.

The fingers were gone then, and there was a wet noise as Renly rubbed the oil over his penis, coating it in a thick layer of the substance.

"A debt long overdue," he said with quiet relish and he took hold of Jaime's hips.

Cersei, thought Jaime then, and then, surprising himself, that poor Wench... her beloved Renly and he'd never consider this with her...

"Aaaahh" the gasp broke from Jaime involuntarily as he was entered. Renly was slow but unyielding as he pressed against resistance and then pushed through it, the oil opening the way for him. Jaime tried to pull away from the intrusion, but Renly's hands held him in place and his voice was soothing.

"Relax.. relax.. take a moment... relax..."

Sweat ran from Jaime's hair and stung his eyes. He knew it was wise counsel. Cersei had learned... he could learn... He breathed slowly, deeply and tried to relax as much as he could... and Renly entered him further. Fully lodged now within him.

"Now we begin," Renly whispered, leaning over Jaime. His right hand reached round to take Jaime's cock in a firm grip and he began to pump him slowly, not moving his own hips, not immediately. Only after he felt the passion grow in Jaime again did Renly start to slowly withdraw himself and then just as slowly push back in.

Jaime moaned as it went on. Not painful now, but still so intrusive, so forbidden, but moaned also in shame at feeling his own body begin to welcome the sensation and to respond with something approaching eagerness. It was the hand on his cock, Jaime told himself, simple friction... that is what I am responding to. He was lying to himself and he knew it. He was being fucked, and he was aroused by the feeling of a hard prick in his ass, pumping into him deeper and faster.

Renly's hand moved faster now and Jaime felt his orgasm begin to build.

"No..."

"Yes," said Renly, "You'll take your pleasure, Kingslayer, take your pleasure from me, and then I'll take mine in you."

"Don't," Jaime groaned, "don't make me..." But it was too late. Renly pushed in hard and his hand jerked faster and Jaime could not hold back any longer. His hips bucked and he cried aloud as he started to come, squirting his seed against the edge of the bed, over the floor, over Renly's hand. The pleasure was intense, drawn out, lasted longer than he had known it could... and then Renly's hand was gone from his cock and both hands were on Jaime's hips as Renly began to fuck him faster.

"Not in me," Jaime pleaded, hating the weakness in his voice, hating being helpless. He had an instinctive feeling that he had not completely submitted to this unless the act was completed, unless...

Renly cried aloud, a desperate animal cry of passion and triumph as he emptied himself into Jaime in several long hot bursts, and Jaime felt Renly's cock swell and stiffen just before each pulsing spurt. He moaned in dismay, and lust and closed his eyes tight.

"Kingslayer,"

Leave me in peace

"Kingslayer,"

He opened his eyes. His body was hot and feverish, and the pain from his arm was maddening. He was lying on his side on muddy ground pressed close against something.. someone... bound in place.

He gave a groan of pain and confusion.

"Kingslayer," It was Brienne's voice, the wench, he was bound to the wench, and she was whispering urgently.

"What?" Jaime mumbled.

"You were crying out in your sleep," she said, unable to turn around but twisting her head around to speak to him.

"but I was sleeping," Jaime said sharply, "I was enjoying sleeping." Was he? He wondered about that.

"You woke me," the wench said sullenly, "I was dreaming too."

"About your precious Renly?"

Her silence was all the answer Jaime needed. He took a deep breath then spoke again.

"I'm sorry I woke you," he said, "try to sleep."

Dawn was a long way away, he knew. And he would see every moment of the night between now and first light.


End file.
